A Family Chronicle
by Mariel Nightstalker
Summary: A story about marriage, children, and divorce. A story about losing love and finding it again. HET SLASH Harry/Ginny, Harry/Blaise Zabini


**A Family Chronicle**

"_Marriage is like a mouse trap, for either man or woman. You've soon come to the end of the cheese."_

Ginny was a good wife…for the first two years of their marriage. And then Harry's mind seemed to zero in on every little thing she did and found fault with it. She talked too loud; she nagged him too much; she was sloppy all the time, even when they went out to dinner.

But then she got pregnant, and Harry's sense of duty kept him by her side. Single mothers are the poorest members of society, after all, and he could never live with himself if his child grew up to hate him. So he kept silent about his intentions of divorce, and catered to Ginny's every pregnant need, no matter how annoying or ridiculous.

James Sirius made up for all the discomfort and urges to slaughter Ginny with his bare hands and bury her in the garden. He was a perfect first child: bubbly, healthy, and always laughing. Harry loved him with every surge of his heartbeat from the moment James was handed to him at the hospital, a little wrinkly reddish-colored lump in a blanket.

Ginny did not recover from her spoiled state as first expectant mother and then recovering mother. She behaved like an invalid and constantly demanded favors from Harry, speaking to him like a servant. Harry bit his tongue. He didn't want James to ever hear them fight. When Ginny would shout at him for some reason or another, and there always seemed to be a reason, he would take her gently by the elbow and lead her outside to the garden no matter the weather.

While she screamed herself hoarse, he fantasized about digging a hole under his beloved rosebushes and turning her to fertilizer. He would seize her by her ears, pinching the auriculars with his fingertips, and just rip her in twain.

He smiled.

It soon became obvious that James loved Harry best. This may have been because Harry changed jobs from active duty Auror to, well, a sort of tactical consultant. This paid more and allowed him to work from home. With Ginny wrapped up in her Quidditch career, this meant that Harry spent almost all of his time with his young son.

Ginny became jealous of this and plied James with sweets and toys to try and win his favor. Harry still won the popularity contest by a long shot. Ginny accepted this defeat with bad grace, and complained to her team mates that Harry ignored her and that her son was a brat.

To an outsider Ginny's second pregnancy would seem perfectly guileless, but it was in fact a ploy to win Harry's attention again. It succeeded, and Harry was once again her loyal servant. He rubbed her feet and drew baths for her and cooked elaborate meals. However, he did all of this with James strapped to his back or tied to his waist, a happy gurgling toddler.

Albus Severus was small and sickly when born, and, much to Ginny's fury, his physical needs and ailments soon occupied Harry's attention far more than anything else. More and more with every cough from Albus or developmental achievement from James, Ginny felt Harry slipping away from her.

She'd grown up fighting for attention. As the youngest and a girl to boot, she craved attention and affection. Her mother didn't know how to raise her, so used to keeping her boys in line with smacks on the head and chores that Ginny was allowed to run wild and get into all sorts of trouble.

A big selling point in her marriage to Harry was how focused his attention was. When he was looking at you, he was really _looking _at you, and when he listened, it was as if you were the only one speaking in the whole world. When she expressed this to Hermione, Hermione asked if she was in love with Harry or what Harry made her feel. She said that she was in love with Harry, of course, but she wasn't sure what the difference was.

She had Lily Luna, another healthy child, though a little on the small side, and the first of the children to resemble her. Their sons were the picture of their father, though James had better bone structure, and she had been longing for a child that really resembled her.

With Lily in her life, desperately needing her attention and love, her need for Harry's attention waned. Lily's unconditional love was like a balm to her desperate side.

As time went by and Harry taught the boys how to read and count and do figures, Ginny sent Lily to a prestigious pre-school. Harry spent the afternoons and weekends teaching his sons how to play football and Quidditch, and Ginny took Lily with her to the pitch to watch her play.

The boys rarely saw their sister, and Harry only saw Ginny at night when they slept together. They barely spoke now except when necessary and it was five years after Lily's birth before they had sex again. Even then it was quick and almost mechanical, a mere satisfaction of physical needs instead of any real connection.

Ginny miscarried twice in a row, both girls, and sank into depression. Lily began to act out at school.

When James went to Hogwarts, Harry would take Albus to visit his brother on the weekends so they wouldn't miss each other too much. Although his sons were two very different people, they were close and James confessed in one of his many letters home that he cried the first month away from missing Albus. The boys were used to sleeping together in the same bed, and with Ginny in therapy and Lily away at her boarding school; Albus took to sleeping with Harry.

Harry was thirty-five when Lily was sent to Hogwarts. It had been five years since Ginny started spending all of her time in therapy, and he felt guilty about how emotionally vulnerable she was, but not guilty enough to not send her the divorce papers. No matter how much he pitied her, he could never forgive her for stealing away and spoiling his daughter.

Lily was sent to a special school for delinquent girls in her third year. Her last report card said that she was not only the worst girl in school, but the worst there had ever been in the memory of the oldest professor.

James graduated with honors a month after she was sent away. Albus, fifteen and distraught about losing both of his siblings (in a way), began dating a veritable giant of a girl named Pixie Bulstrode.

He became distant from Harry even as James seemed to grow closer, constantly sending him letters asking for advice and stopping in for lunch or tea or breakfast unexpectedly and helping around the house.

Harry, without the children around the house, began talking to Hermione and Ron regularly again. Their youngest was still at home but he kept to himself and his books and preferred to be left alone. Ron told Harry that Ginny had been fragile since her possession by Tom in her first year, that it was only a matter of time before she cracked for good, and that no one blamed him for not wanting to be held back by an insane wife.

"Like Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre," Hermione had added, looking up from her book of Finnish weaponry.

Sharing his worries about what Albus and Pixie were getting up to, Harry felt himself grow younger and lighter. It was as though his realization that Ginny was finally out of his life was finally sinking in.

At one of Hermione's Ministry get-togethers, where Ministry employees congregated in her house and drank cocktails and complained about the official Ministry parties, Harry was introduced to Blaise Zabini, whom he vaguely remembered from Hogwarts.

He was different now, no longer the nasty schoolboy he'd been, though he was as devastatingly handsome as ever. Blaise owned the biggest charitable foundation in the Wizarding world, which dedicated itself to a number of worthy causes, among them the construction of universities and primary schools for magical children. The premise was that the primary schools would help Muggleborn children assimilate faster into the culture, removing the previous culture shock of Hogwarts. And the universities were responsible for reviving a number of magical career options previously only available through grand-fathering, a situation that had stunted the financial well-being of Muggleborns post-graduation. Through his schools, the economic depression that'd resulted in the Post-War delirium was eradicated.

Essentially, Blaise was the sole reason that Wizarding society was not only still standing but prospering. Britain was again great.

Harry was utterly fascinated. At first he admired him in a purely professional light, but then, as Blaise requisitioned him to become a consultant and honorary member of the board of trustees as a publicity stunt, in a personal light as well. They spent a lot of late evenings together, when James wasn't around wanting attention, discussing plans for expansion and the philosophical aspect of what it means to be an outsider, both from the perspective of a Pureblood and a Muggleborn.

They say the leopard cannot change his spots, but Blaise was living proof that a leopard could strut about in plaid if it wanted to.

Albus graduated, with more honors than James, for which James tackled him. Harry didn't know the details, but thing hadn't worked out with Pixie. Albus came to live at home, taking a year off between graduation and university to figure out which of his many interests he wanted to study.

He was like a character from Chekhov. One met him sometimes coming out of the library or on the stairs – never knowing when he's at home – and now and then he suddenly comes in to dinner like a ghost quite unexpectedly.

Albus was the first to comment on Harry's closeness with Blaise. They stood side-by-side in the bathroom shaving, Albus in the clumsiness of youth and Harry with the swift sure strokes of experience.

Harry brushed off his questions with a laugh, saying that of course there was nothing _like that _going on between him and Blaise. Albus did not look convinced but he said nothing more on the subject. Harry was thinking about it, though. He began to notice how close Blaise sat to him, how Blaise paid him more attention than any of his other friends, and how Blaise only smiled at him.

He felt like a teenager again, and wondered if he ought to make a move or simply wait for Blaise to take the first step towards becoming more than just intimate friends. His palms got sweaty when Blaise sat beside him and he felt jealous when he smelled perfume from Pansy's dress on him one evening.

Logically he knew that Pansy was married and happily so to Vincent Crabbe, but he wasn't inclined to think logically around Blaise.

And then one night as he was leaving Harry's small study after another intense discussion about whether or not they should make Latin a required subject, Blaise kissed him and asked him to please think about them as something more than friends. He asked for Harry to let him know how he felt in the morning, requested that he at least consider Blaise for one night.

Harry wanted to say that he didn't need to think about it, but he couldn't speak. He nodded. Blaise smiled at him, all white teeth, and left.

Lying in his bed, Harry thought about how his children would react to this. He knew that Albus wouldn't care, and that James would come around. But Lily…Lily was graduated from her delinquent school now and worked as a book clerk in Diagon Alley. They rarely saw each other since she refused to come to family gatherings and only spoke to him when he came to the shop for a book (he'd purchased many books he had no intention of reading). Would this endear her to him or drive her farther away?

An owl arrived at three in the morning. It was from the hospital Ginny now permanently resided in. She claimed she was dying and in a hysterical state, smashing everything she could lift in her small room. She kept calling for him, and they politely requested that he come and see her in her final hours.

Not knowing what else to do, he dressed and tore a comb through his hair, still mussed from Blaise's hands digging into it hours before. He smiled at the mirror despite the situation.

Ginny looked like a corpse when he arrived, gray and empty-eyed. The nurse who'd escorted him to her room said that she'd only stopped her fit a half hour earlier, when they showed her that they were sending for him. Harry nodded and braced himself before entering.

She seemed to come to life when she saw him, sitting up and reaching for him. He let her take his hands, sitting on the plastic chair beside the bed. His skin crawled at her contact but he permitted it. She was dying, she deserved to do as she liked.

She launched into a whispered (her voice was hoarse from screaming, and one of her hands had a little bandage on it from one of the things she'd thrown in her fit) passionate speech about why he should re-marry her. She said that she would be better again if only he married her again. He tried to remind her that she'd willingly signed the divorce papers but she brushed that argument away, claiming that she didn't understand how much she loved him then.

He felt sick when she confessed that she'd only been jealous of the bond he shared with their sons and that she never really wanted to turn Lily against him; she was only jealous. She knew better now, she promised, clutching his hands spasmodically like stress balls. When she ran out of words, her voice getting lower and lower until it was a silent movement of lips, he removed his hands from hers as subtly as he was able and said, quiet but firm,

"I'm sorry…I just don't love you anymore. I'm leaving now, alright? You are clearly not dying."

As he rose to leave, she took a deep breath and then spat. Her spittle landed on his cheek, and he brushed it away with his sleeve. He stared her down until she cowered in her bed like a dog.

"Apologize."

She did, and he left without a backward glance. He paid for the damages, not knowing why he bothered. She had money enough in the bank from her admittedly-brilliant Quidditch career.

The sun was peeking over the horizon when he finally left the hospital. Her speech had lasted far longer than he realized. The first thing he did when he arrived home was take a long, hot shower. Afterwards he rummaged through his closet for something nice but not too nice to wear. He settled on his favorite shirt and the one pair of slacks that weren't part of a set of dress robes without frayed or ripped bits.

He inspected himself in the mirror. He was past forty now, but he was still free of gray hair and anything more than shallow wrinkles around his eyes and a few extra furrows on his forehead and around his mouth.

Blaise was by far more attractive than him, but the case had been the same with Ginny. He smiled, feeling free and unfettered.

Albus' door was ajar, and he peeped in at his sleeping son. He looked exactly as Harry had when he was seventeen, but younger somehow. Harry padded into his room, socked feet keeping his steps quiet, and kissed his forehead like he used to when the boys were small enough to fit in a crib together.

Albus didn't stir, sound asleep.

Harry knew Blaise would be awake, both of them early risers.

He knocked lightly on the door to Blaise's office, and grinned when he heard the surprised note in Blaise's voice. Blaise obviously didn't expect there to be anyone else at the office at six in the morning.

Blaise stood so hastily that his chair fell over when Harry peeked around the door. He crouched to right it and Harry crossed the room to lay his hand on his shoulder. Still in a squat, Blaise looked up at him with hope and the terror of rejection in his eyes. Harry sank down to sit beside him on the floor.

"Well?" Blaise breathed at last, his native impatience over-powering his fear. Harry laughed and gave him a quick kiss.

"Does that answer the question?"

Blaise pulled his hand onto his shoulder and Harry could feel that he was shaking. He was shaking too. It'd been so long since he'd last been happy with someone like this that he was a little scared that it would turn out as badly this time around as it had with Ginny.

Shaking off those thoughts with a shrug of his shoulders, he asked Blaise if he'd had anything to eat yet. Blaise said no, so Harry took him out to breakfast. They were photographed sitting too close together to be friends by some upstart at the Daily Prophet, and by noon the whole world knew.

~000~

End A Family Chronicle

This is just me writing my own damn epilogue. And I am tired of Draco getting Harry. Not _all _gentlemen prefer blondes, you know.


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